Give me any wisdom,
Little white butterfly,
Open a blank page,
Close the blank page?
Open page:
Loneliness;
Closed pages:
Loneliness.
Appreciate:
I like Dai Wangshu's melancholy, blue melancholy, and the poet's philosophical thinking, "Lonely autumn sorrow, lovesickness in the far sea ...". I dare not say that I understand his loneliness and melancholy. I can only say that I saw a blue flower in his heart.
The first time I met Dai Wangshu was his song "Trouble". I feel the sadness in my heart as beautiful as a river. As his brush strokes flow, I feel as if I am listening to Bach's law of average, repeating, repeating, repeating, with the most mysterious touch of life. Later, in his poems, I learned about the feelings like cloves, the deep sadness of crimson color, and the loneliness of this white butterfly …
"Give me some wisdom, little white butterfly." Is he asking for help, or helpless, or ... can a small butterfly really bear it? Faced with troubles and helplessness, why did he choose to beg the so-called wisdom from Xiao Bai Butterfly, even though he knew it was only white and ethereal, as ethereal as his thoughts.
He seemed to take me back to the pond before my childhood. On summer nights, dragonflies and butterflies gather by the pond. At that time, I liked to chase the biggest and blackest butterfly with my own net. Once, I caught a black butterfly as big as a palm and a small white butterfly as big as a coin. After returning home, I made their own specimens and put them together. That was the first time I saw this humble white butterfly. It is as elegant as a moth, without gorgeous colors and amazing arcs. Everything is familiar and ordinary, with faint lines and faint powder, just like a hut in a water town in the south of the Yangtze River, simple and calm. Time is also frozen because of its flightless wings.
I am in a dream, in a butterfly's dream. No, this is Dai Wangshu's dream. Why did the butterfly in his dream come into my mind?
In my dream, my butterfly came back to life and fluttered its wings. Its light spirit floated before my eyes like snowflakes, taking away what was only in my mind, leaving a blank that I didn't understand and had been afraid of. "Open a blank page and close a blank page?" The poet wants to find a suitable soul and a familiar smell, just as I like to look for childhood memories on the wings of a white butterfly, but the lines are blurred. The only thing that is certain is that that experience really exists in my life, and one day it will suddenly remind me that I can't forget it, but now I can't remember him when I need it most. Between opening and closing, what belongs to me was taken away? What belongs to him was taken away? Can a person who has lost his memory lose his life? Are you a blank-minded person, a thirsty and anxious traveler like a desert?
Loneliness, when the word comes to mind, is not the loneliness and bitterness of "Silent Hill is the west wing, the bright moon is like a hook, and the solitary phoenix tree locks the clear autumn in its deep courtyard". After all, I'm not Li Houzhu. In my opinion, loneliness is no longer a poisoned wine. I swallow it alone with tears in my eyes. It seems that a faint white butterfly makes all this quiet, and loneliness is loneliness. I even enjoy a unique loneliness, not loneliness with dignity, but.
The loneliness of white butterflies is not gray, but some transparent white. He didn't choose to be as bitter as autumn, which stung my heart again in this silent night. The black butterfly nailed to it is my memorial; He did not choose to be as cold as winter. My tears have become ice crystals before they fall. He sent me a white butterfly, which hit my soul calmly. There is no sadness, no pain, no lost pain, only the beauty of peace and loneliness.
Open pages, loneliness, closed pages, loneliness, my mind is lonely, but at least I realize that I am lonely. ...
Life is often a person's stage show. When you are tired, you may just be lonely, like a white butterfly. People who can't stand loneliness input emptiness without knowing it. People who don't understand loneliness are tired and bitter for him. But if you just think like a white butterfly, the sweet freshness will be reflected in the faint pain. How about drinking tea alone?